Page 109 of Trust

Whitmore inhales sharply, the tension audible through the line. “You do not know what you are talking about,” he snaps.

“I think I do,” I say. A car honks in the background. “You’re out of office range. Intentionally, I assume. The Board can’t hear this, right?”

No answer comes for a beat. The silence is a plain kind of reply. The bluff held. Cash was right.

“Convince me she’s safer with you than with me. Convince me there’s a life waiting for her that is worth returning to, one where she’s more than a political asset.”

“Who do you think you are?” he booms. “I do not answer to you—”

“Let me change your mind on this, Mr. Whitmore. I have the files. The ones with redactions and the ones without. We both know what would happen if those files went public. Don’t make me prove it.”

Whitmore exhales, his voice smoothing into a practiced calm. “What do you want? More money?”

“No,” I state flatly. “I want Sara as far away from you, and from Gabe, as possible. She goes to boarding school as you planned. After graduation, you’ll make sure she gets into the college she chooses, and you’ll pay. My records stay where they are. Should I have reason to doubt any of this, the files will leak and you’ll never see your daughter again. Do you understand?”

He has the audacity to laugh. “And how do you think you’ll get Sara to comply?”

“I have my ways, Mr. Whitmore. Now tell me,” I stress every syllable, “do you understand?”

A long pause follows.

“Yes. I understand.”

Although I’m not sure whether he even has the power to make demands of that Board, we set the rendezvous point at the factory. The same one where all of this began, where I accepted the offer. It’s off the main roads, easy to reach, and easier to escape from if things go sideways. If they do, I’ll get Sara out, even if it means I have to erase them all.

One last night together is all we have, and I’ll make it count. Tomorrow morning, we leave.

It won’t be easy. None of this is. But it’s for the best, her best. Once she’s home, I’ll find Cash and make him understand, one way or another, until he eventually lets her go.

She’s going to break when she learns what really happened, when she realizes what she needs to do now. But she’ll survive it. More than that, she’ll master it.

The living room is empty, so I head for the kitchen.

The second the door swings open, the air rushes from my lungs.

She’s there at the table. Eyes wide, tears streaming, one hand clamped over her mouth, a scream trapped behind her fingers.

Her mother’s file lies open on the table, a wound that won’t close.

Fuck.

She stares at me in disbelief, her walls already up. “Did you know about this all along?” Her voice cracks.

“Sara,” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Did you?” She rises, fists clenched at her sides.

“No, I didn’t.” I doubt she believes me. “Cash got intel because we wanted to help you find out if it was an accident or not.”

“Help me without telling me?” she interrupts again.

“It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” Her voice rises, carrying a dangerous clarity. “Not like both of you fucking me? Then handing me to my mom’s killer and cashing the check?”

Her scream ricochets through the room, trembling with rage and heartbreak.

I move closer, wanting to hold her, to get her to see the truth. She flinches and backs away, loathing flashing in her eyes. The memory of the first day slams into me. She hates me all over again.